“Just one flower,” Ox notes. “That much for each child can’t be hard to find, right, sir?”

“Skies, I hope not,” our commander replies.

We wait for the rest of the stragglers in a hushed, humming quiet. Voices carry and find one another, trading words of strength. I catch myself hunching and straighten up, holding the crown of my head high like the instructors taught us in our years of brutal training.

My thoughts turn to the sick kids. Two already dead, and who knows how many others under the healers’ care. They don’t have much time, and neither does the city if things get worse. The sentinels never say the name Garradin out loud, and neither will I. But I can’t be the only one thinking about it.

The unspoken truth everyone knows is that a hundred years ago when the humans poured water and mud into the tunnels of Garradin to kill the fox-kin, the ones lucky enough to escape had their magic snuffed out instantly, like flames blown by storm winds. When the Leonodai’s and bearking’s forces finally pushed the humans back, they found only ordinary foxes, their Knowledge taken from them completely.

The scholars had known animals could lose their Knowledge. After all, even at the time, there were only five peoples who could still shape-shift. But to have witnessed the historic loss was a turning point. The Four Kingdoms came together, with more fervor than ever, and had kept a united front against the humans ever since. My father used to tell me that the reason the bearkings stay on Vyrinterra now is because they are afraid of losing their own magic.

How many Leonodai would need to join the Endless Skies before the losses begin to affect the Heliana’s powers? If too many kids are lost, or if adults start to get sick, we could become the next Garradin.

“Fear or no fear,” the Second Sentinel shouts as the eleventh bell begins to toll, “you remain proud! Proud of your blood, proud of your people. Loyalty above all!”

We echo the words back to her. It is our city’s children on the line. Ours is a mission of legend, of the kind that Rowan longs to be a part of.

You can be the hero of this tale, I think. You can be the hero of hers, too.

The sentinels give the signal to take flight.

Cold wraps around me like a shroud as my paws lift from the Heliana. Sethran takes us into the headwind while the rest of us form a line behind him. All around me, the other teams take the same formation, each of us saving our energy. We’ll split up at Balmora, but for right now, we take the most direct path to the Cliffs.